


enough to last

by breathingvacancy



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Tokyo Ghoul Femslash Week, Tokyo Ghoul: re Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 06:12:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6144112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathingvacancy/pseuds/breathingvacancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saiko takes her hand and Hairu hauls her up to her feet. A few moments pass and she lets go even though she doesn’t want to.</p>
<p>So they were interrupted. It blows, but it’s okay. They have tomorrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	enough to last

**Author's Note:**

> No NSFW content, but one somewhat suggestive scene present. I feel like this should have a ship name.

Saiko lunges for Hairu and strikes out toward her jaw with the heel of her palm, fingers curled tightly inward. Hairu sidesteps to avoid the blow and counters with a swift kick toward her stomach. Saiko barely manages to scrabble away and stumbles clumsily, breath puffing through her teeth.

Hairu grins and springs like a cat, tackling her down to the practice mat. Saiko struggles under her, pushing at her shoulders and vainly trying to wiggle free. Hairu grabs both her wrists in one hand and pins them behind her head.

“I win again,” she declares sunnily.

“Ugh.” Saiko goes limp with defeat. “Of course you do. It’s no fair, you’re bigger and stronger than me.”

“Nope,” Hairu says, teasingly poking Saiko in her button nose. “Not an excuse. Since you’re smaller than me you actually have a lower center of gravity. If I knock you down you’re less likely to be injured and more likely to get back up.”

“Well I can’t get up at all when you’re on top of me,” Saiko murmurs, her lips curving up in a playful smile.

Hairu pauses. Their sessions always seem to end like this. Saiko pinned to the mat underneath her, her face flushed with the effort and a sheen of perspiration on her forehead. Cornflower tresses falling out of their pigtails as soft pants leave her petal like lips…

“Hairu?” Saiko prompts with a curious tilt of the head.

“You don’t seem to be in a hurry to make me move,” Hairu says carefully.

Saiko’s lashes flutter. She shyly casts her gaze to the side and when she speaks, her voice is as quiet as a blossom drifting to the grass but the smile remains with rapt edges.

“I’m not…”

Hairu takes her chin with a much gentler touch than the punch she’d cracked it with not even an hour ago, tilting it up. She lowers her own until their lips skim.

Saiko reciprocates hastily, warm and tasting like the salt and grease on the potato chips she’d eaten earlier.

Hairu tentatively draws back. This is new…nice, but new.

Saiko’s puckered lips melt into a smile, roses blooming in her cheeks. This is new for her too.

Before they can talk about what just occurred, the door swings open and Haise steps over the threshold with Shirazu on his heels.

“Oh,” he blinks at them, surprised. “I didn’t realize you were back again, Ihei. Would you girls like to train with us too?”

“I’ve had enough exercise for one day,” Saiko declines, shifting her gaze back to Hairu. “Wanna come over and play Mortal Kombat tomorrow?” A hopeful glint glitters in her depths.

“Yeah.” Hairu smiles and finally gets off of Saiko. She stands up and extends her hand to her. “Of course.”

Saiko takes her hand and Hairu hauls her up to her feet. A few moments pass and she lets go even though she doesn’t want to.

So they were interrupted. It blows, but it’s okay. They have tomorrow. They have time.

* * *

“Fatality,” gloats a guttural voice as the all-caps letters flash across the screen dripping animated blood.

Saiko cackles victoriously and pumps her fist. “And that’s how the Yonebayashi does it!”

Hairu sighs petulantly and sets down the controller. “That’s the third time in a row you’ve beaten me.”

“You’ll get better with practice,” replies Saiko. “But good enough to beat the Yonebayashi? Well…” she trails off, chuckling darkly like a cartoon villain.

Her lips look too pretty lifted up in that easy smile. Before Hairu knows it, she’s kissing them again. Saiko responds like that’s what she’s been waiting for all day. She closes her eyes and deepens the kiss, tilting her head as she slips her tongue between Hairu’s teeth.

Bubbles of delight tickle Hairu’s chest as she eagerly lets Saiko suck her breath away, sliding her hands over the shorter girl’s hips. Saiko tenderly cups the nape of Hairu’s neck in one soft, pudgy palm and threads her spare fingers through her hair.

They break the kiss in unison, a thread of saliva connecting their mouths. It severs as they incline their foreheads to touch. For a moment they simply breathe together.

“I drew you,” Hairu murmurs. She’d had an art block for awhile. Sketching Saiko had finally pulled her out of it.

“I drew you too,” Saiko says. “As a magical girl.”

Hairu laughs, flexing her fingers on Saiko’s hips and then squeezing affectionately. “Oh yeah?”

“Yup. You have a lightning wand and your color scheme is peach and pink. You got your powers from an elemental sprite.”

“I want to see it.”

“You will,” Saiko promises fondly. “When it’s done.”

“I can’t wait.” Hairu brushes her lips over Saiko’s cheek.

Saiko hums a small noise of contentment. “So what do I look like in your drawing?”

“Well you aren’t a magical girl,” Hairu admits. “I drew you giving me a thumbs up. You’re my motivational girl, Saiko.”

Saiko flashes her the gesture in agreement and Hairu pushes her lips to the pad of her thumb. Saiko then wraps both arms around her neck and flops back to the cushions. All of a sudden Hairu is on top of her and it’s the end of their sparring matches all over again.

They’re nascent in this currently undefined intimacy, wading in the waters of a shared sparkle.

Looking into Saiko’s face, Hairu slowly slides her knee between her legs. Saiko’s lips part with the delicacy of a butterfly’s flutter and then her teeth press to her lower lip. She splays her fingers and runs them down Hairu’s shoulder, across her collar. She cups her breast and gives it a tentative squeeze.

Before they can explore each other any further, a door down the hallway opens and shuts. They separate as quickly as possibly, throwing themselves to the opposite sides of the couch as footsteps tread closer.

Mutsuki appears, offering a nod of greeting as he winds his way around to the kitchen.

“Saiko, do you know if there’s anything in the fridge?”

“Hmm, not sure,” Saiko calls. She offers Hairu a sheepish smile.

So they haven’t figured out their relationship yet. That’s okay. They have time.

* * *

Hairu’s funeral is a small, quaint thing with more white camellias than attendants.

She doesn’t matter as much now that she’s a corpse. Ui is there. Arima makes a brief appearance. Mutsuki accompanies Saiko for support.

She thought sobbing over Shirazu had dried up every tear left in her, but Hairu’s closed casket unleashes a fresh flood.

She sobs until her throat is gummy and ropes of snot dangle from her nostrils, the smell of incense and bouquets recycled in her gulping breaths. Mutsuki holds her stoically and lets her unravel.

All sensations of Hairu hit her at once in a violent backlash. The harsh sting of her sparring kick, the Hokkaido dialect in her relaxed drawl, the taste of melon bread she’d kissed off her lips, the surprising warmth of her lithe embrace.

They hadn’t even started yet and the time had already run out.


End file.
